Glancing with black-beaded eyes, Till the lightning laughters dimple The baby-roses in her cheeks; Then away she flies.

Prithee weep, May Lilian!

Gayety without eclipse

Wearieth me, May Lilian:

Through my very heart it thrilleth

When from crimson-threaded lips Silver-treble laughter trilleth:

Prithee weep, May Lilian.

Praying all I can,

If prayers will not hush thee,

Airy Lilian,

Like a rose-leaf I will crush thee,

Fairy Lilian.

ISABEL.

EYES not down-dropt nor over-bright, but fed
With the clear-pointed flame of chastity,

Clear without heat, undying, tended by

Pure vestal thoughts in the translucent fane Of her still spirit; locks not wide dispread, Madonna-wise on either side her head; Sweet lips whereon perpetually did reign The summer calm of golden charity, Were fixed shadows of thy fixed mood,

Revered Isabel, the crown and head,

The stately flower of female fortitude,

Of perfect wifehood and pure lowlihead.

The intuitive decision of a bright

And thorough-edged intellect to part

Error from crime; a prudence to withhold; The laws of marriage charactered in gold Upon the blanched tablets of her heart; A love still burning upward, giving light To read those laws; an accent very low In blandishment, but a most silver flow

Of subtle-paced counsel in distress,
Right to the heart and brain, though undescried,
Winning its way with extreme gentleness
Through all the outworks of suspicious pride;
A courage to endure and to obey;

A hate of gossip parlance, and of sway,
Crowned Isabel, through all her placid life,
The queen of marriage, a most perfect wife.

The mellowed reflex of a winter moon;
A clear stream flowing with a muddy one,
Till in its onward current it absorbs

With swifter movement and in purer light

The vexed eddies of its wayward brother: A leaning and upbearing parasite, Clothing the stem, which else had fallen quite, With clustered flower-bells and ambrosial orbs

Of rich fruit-bunches leaning on each other

Shadow forth thee:- the world hath not another

(Though all her fairest forms are types of thee,

And thou of God in thy great charity)

Of such a finished chastened purity.

MARIANA.

"Mariana in the moated grange."- Measure for Measure.

I.

WITH blackest moss the flower-plots
Were thickly crusted, one and all:
The rusted nails fell from the knots

That held the peach to the garden-wall.
The broken sheds looked sad and strange;
Unlifted was the clinking latch;

Weeded and worn the ancient thatch

Upon the lonely moated grange.

She only said, "My life is dreary,

He cometh not," she said;
She said, "I am aweary, aweary,

I would that I were dead!"